


Vulnerability

by jumpsoap



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-28 14:45:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14451522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpsoap/pseuds/jumpsoap
Summary: Ignis thought the biggest challenge of managing his client’s acting career would be dealing with the eccentric director of his newest project. He didn’t expect Noctis’s previously unheard-of co-star to catch his attention so suddenly and completely… How dangerous of a distraction will this Prompto Argentum prove to be?(Some tags & character tags apply only to later chapters, and more will be added as we go.)





	1. Silver

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This story is inspired by the 2000 movie Shadow of the Vampire, which is a movie I can’t really recommend to anyone because it’s got some stuff that I found quite shocking and disturbing the first time I watched it. 
> 
> Now, this is mostly a fun, sexy story, but it does contain some of the same themes and plot points as that movie, and that may be disturbing for some readers. Please feel free to contact me directly if you’d like more detailed information on the kind of content you can expect in this story, and let me know if you think additional tags or warnings would be helpful.
> 
> Tumblr: [Main](http://jumpsoap.tumblr.com) / [NSFW](http://jumpsoap-backroom.tumblr.com)  
> windycockslap on Kik  
> jumpsoap @ Gmail

Ignis looked up again from the screenplay he was paging through, meeting Noctis’s expectant gaze. Their mugs of coffee, long finished while Ignis read and Noctis watched him, sat on the kitchen table between them.

“Isn’t it cool?” Noctis asked him for the fifth time. 

“It’s certainly… provocative,” Ignis conceded, as he skimmed over the page-long speech the vampire character would be giving to the ghost of his departed lover, just before… Oh. Immolating himself in the sunlight, of course. 

Ardyn Izunia, who would be producing and directing this movie in addition to having a screenwriting credit, was known more for psychological thrillers than paranormal romance, and apart from the plentitude of ‘intimate scenes,’ this script seemed to fit in well with his corpus. 

On the other hand, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ignis’s client, had appeared almost exclusively in the kind of light, feel-good romantic comedies that young women loaded up on wine and chocolates to marathon on Friday nights. 

Ignis closed the manuscript on the final scene, in which the human-turned-ghost’s fiancée sets fire to the mansion of the vampire who has seduced and murdered her beloved, and tried to think of something to say about it.

“Izunia is not known as an actors’ director,” he started. “You might not have a good time. It won’t be like your previous movies.” 

“I _want_ to do a real movie, Specs. Izunia’s a Tonberry winner. This could be my big break! Plus, I wanna do a gay movie, now that I’m out.” 

“It seems somewhat exploitative,” Ignis said to that, although he could practically already see the sparkle of potential awards and accolades in Noctis’s dark eyes.

“What? No! It’s sexy,” Noctis insisted.

“You do realize this vampire character is going to be played by an older gentleman.” 

Noctis shook his head. “He’s my age. Cute, too.” 

“They already have an actor?” Ignis asked. “When did you meet him?” 

“At the studio,” Noctis said with a shrug. “Last night. Ardyn was there with this guy, Argentum. That’s when they gave me the script and asked me to try out.”

“Argentum,” Ignis said. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“New talet. Sound like Ardyn discovered him in Niflheim. Anyway, they said if I said yes they wouldn’t even put out a casting call! They said I’m perfect for the part.” Noctis was practically bouncing in his chair.

Ignis stood and took his and Noctis’s cups to the sink. Noctis had been running out of steam with his usual roles, and if he thought a grim, serious movie with a demanding director and a long stint filming on location in arctic Niflheim would inspire him, well… He was a grown adult, even if he was both an actor and Ignis’s oldest friend, and all Ignis could really do would be to watch him make his bed and lie in it. 

“I’ll need to talk to the studio, and see what Izunia has in mind for a contract,” Ignis said, causing Noctis to pump his fist in celebration.

#####

Ignis didn’t end up meeting this Argentum character face-to-face until several days later, although he did have several uncomfortable run-ins with Ardyn Izunia as they gravitated towards each other around the new project. Ardyn, though overly solicitous and evasive, did not put Ignis off enough that he felt he had grounds to veto Noctis’s bid for the vampire movie. 

So it was that Ignis had just dropped off a finalized contract at the studio, Noctis’s signature fresh on the page, and was exiting onto the street with a sheath of new paperwork related to the movie in his face, when he collided with someone standing just outside. 

“What the devil–” Ignis cursed, fumbling with his papers, while the stranger steadied him with hands on his shoulders.

“Oh, man, I am so sorry!” 

Ignis looked down into the fresh, fair face of a person he’d never met before. Some part of him must have already realized who he was looking at, because he heard Noctis’s voice echo in his ears: “ _my age,” “cute.”_

“It’s no matter,” Ignis said, still standing stationary in the doorway as cold, damp air spilled into the warm building at his back. 

“You’re Ignis Scientia, right?” 

Ignis pulled away, realizing suddenly why he had been staring. As the young man grinned at him, his lips were parted to reveal long, pointed fangs. “And you are?” 

“Prompto Argentum.” He held out a hand, but Ignis focused on tidying his papers rather than take it. 

“Ah. Of course.” But it wouldn’t do to alienate Noctis’s fellow actor so soon, regardless of how flustered Ignis had become. He stepped out onto the sidewalk, allowing the glass doors to slide shut behind him, and turned to speak to Prompto to take his leave with some minimal courtesy. “Well, I imagine we’ll see each other around once filming begins.”

“So Noctis took the job? Nice!” 

“He did.” Then, because Prompto was rocking on his heels as though he was waiting for Ignis to say something, he asked, “What business do you have at the studio tonight?” 

“Actually, I just finished,” Prompto said. “Did you have plans right now?” 

“Yes.” It was nearly eleven. Ignis had plans to be in bed.

“Aw. No time for a drink? I can give you a ride.” 

Ignis was not unfamiliar with demands on his time from all angles, having been periphery to the acting industry since Noctis had begun appearing in movies at the age of fifteen. He was absolutely accustomed to saying _no_ to such demands, no matter how suddenly they were sprung. 

So it took him a moment to realize that the response that came out of his own mouth was, “If you insist.” He straightened his glasses on his nose. 

“Nice!” Prompto clapped a hand onto his shoulder and kept it there, guiding him down the curb to a low white car. Prompto opened the door for him and then circled around to drop into the driver’s seat. “I found this great place a few blocks away. You don’t live far, do you?” 

“About ten minutes without traffic.” 

“Which is never, right?” Prompto flashed a grin at him before easing the car out into the street. 

“You’re getting to know Insomnia, I see.” 

“I like it.” 

“Better than where you came from?”

“Oh yeah, loads.” Prompto leaned back in the seat and drummed his fingers on the wheel as they waited for a light. 

“You don’t sound like you’re from Niflheim,” Ignis said, too eager for information to wait for a proper opening.

“Vhat, you vere thinking I talk like zis, yes?”

Ignis didn’t know how to respond to that, and the car turned and descended into a dim parking lot beneath a shopping center. 

“See? Close.” Prompto said as he threw the car into park and popped open his door. “What?” 

Ignis had to ask. “Did you forget to give your props back?” He gestured at his own mouth.

“Huh? Oh.” Prompto bared his teeth and tapped on one of the wicked-looking fangs. “Nope. These babies are installed hardware.” 

“You’re… awfully dedicated.” 

“Sure. You gotta have something if you wanna catch a break. C’mon.” 

The establishment into which Prompto led him was well-lit, more like a diner than a bar. The clientele, mostly fair, older men, sat around tables and at the bar with beers and shot glasses and plates of fried, bready finger food.

Ignis straightened his cuffs, feeling eyes on him. Before he even made it all the way inside, Prompto was taking a bottle and two small glasses from the bartender. He waved Ignis on and led him up a half-flight of stairs to a less crowded area with smaller tables.

Prompto slid into a chair against the wall and filled their glasses from the bottle, something crystal clear and ice cold that smelled of roses when Ignis lifted it to Prompto’s toast.

The cold, sweet drink went down easily. Prompto began to hum under his breath as he refilled their cups.

When Noctis had described Prompto as attractive, Ignis had imagined someone more of his friend’s type: large, muscular, stoic. He was about as far from that as a man could be; a little shorter and more slight even than Noctis. Not someone Ignis would have thought to cast as a vampire lord. Izunia must have seen something in the man, or simply had a great deal of faith in the magic of the silver screen. 

“Have you done much acting before?” Ignis asked.

“Not really. Nothing real.” Prompto tended to polish off his drink in one go as soon as he poured, and to refill their cups the moment Ignis finished his.

“What made you want to act?” 

“Get money, meet people.” 

“And how did you meet Ardyn Izunia?”

“At a party.” Prompto propped his chin on his hand, rolling the base of his glass on the table, the contents just barely clinging to the inside of the glass as it tilted. “What’s with the interview? I thought Noctis already took the part.”

“It’s my job to ask questions.”

“You’re on the clock right now?”

“I have a salaried position.” Ignis replied, which caused the young man to burst out laughing.

“Iggy! Come on, your guy got the gig, isn’t the hard part over? Stop working.” 

“I could say the same to you.”

“Huh?” Prompto let his glass fall flat. 

“Just tell me what you want,” Ignis said, tongue starting to feel heavy from the alcohol. “I’m not Izunia. I don’t appreciate coyness.” 

“I just wanted some company!” 

Ignis snorted, then felt Prompto’s foot nudging up against his own under the table.

“What, you don’t believe that?”

“You’ve made a poor choice.” 

“Not from where I’m sitting,” Prompto said, leaning in.

Heat that had little to do with the alcohol pricked up Ignis’s skin, and he turned away to look down on the other patrons of the pub, wrapped up in their own conversations, a card game spread out on the largest circular table. Was it really something so simple?

“If you’re planning to work your way through the crew,” Ignis said, “Don’t think starting with me will help your reputation. I’m not exactly considered a trophy.”

Prompto laughed as though he’d told a joke, and Ignis drained his glass again. “I bet you’ve got a couple of admirers, though, right?”

Ignis regarded his cheerful face and clear eyes. “Perhaps people who don’t know me,” he said, speaking slowly to keep his words in order. “You don’t know me.”

“So tell me about yourself.”

“I’m mean.”

“I like mean.”

“I’m boring,” Ignis insisted. “Uptight. Stuck up.”

“Nice.”

Ignis laughed and shook his head. “It’s not good, it’s not nice. Not nice for a lover.”

“So, what, then? You want someone to bring you down?” Prompto’s gaze traveled purposefully down Ignis’s body. “Loosen you up?”

Ignis choked on his eighth or ninth drink of the night.

“We can have fun,” Prompto said as Ignis dabbed at the sticky alcohol on his shirt with a handful of thin napkins.

“I’ve had too much to drink,” Ignis muttered.

“So let’s go,” Prompto said, standing, leaving the rest of the bottle open on the table.

“I’ll call a cab.” Ignis fumbled with his phone, but Prompto leaned against the table, legs practically in Ignis’s lap, and tapped his on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, I said I’d drop you off. It’s dangerous to get in cars with strangers, y’know.” 

“You’ve been drinking, too,” Ignis objected.

“I’m good! High capacity for this stuff.” Prompto stood up on one foot and touched a finger to his nose to demonstrate. “And you had more than me,” he pointed out, voice funny as he pushed his own nose up.

“Fine,” Ignis said, feeling perilously light. At least Noctis wasn’t there.

They wound up in Prompto’s car again, Ignis’s forehead pressed to the glass as they rolled out into the neon lights of the street. He closed his eyes, but didn’t sleep. 

“I meant what I said,” he said once they had driven for some time. “No one likes me.”

“Noctis said a bunch of good stuff about you.”

Ignis looked over at him, but Prompto’s eyes didn’t leave the road. “Is that what you’re looking for?” he said, almost to himself. “You want a manager?”

“I don’t want you to be my manager, dude. I mean, I bet you’re a great manager and all…”

They came to a stop against a curb, and Prompto propped his elbow on the steering wheel to turn and return Ignis’s gaze. The streetlight just above them was dark, dead, but Prompto’s silhouette was lined in silver moonlight.

“This is your place, right?” 

It was. He must have lost the memory of reciting his address along the way.

“I meant what I said, too,” Prompto said, but he said it with an odd half-smile that didn’t quite reveal his modified teeth. He was rather close, all of a sudden.

Ignis felt something strange and warm against his hand; it took him a moment to register that he’d put up his own palm against Prompto’s face to halt his movement in. “Wait,” he slurred. “It’s not… not good. To kiss drunk.”

“It’s not?” Prompto asked, a little muffled, and then his tongue was up against Ignis’s hand, a hot, wet spot on his palm. When had he removed his gloves?

“No,” he said, and lowered his hand, watching Prompto’s parted lips. “And… your teeth. They’ll poke me.”

“That would suck,” Prompto said, running his tongue over the teeth in question.

Ignis swallowed. “Are you going to come up?”

“Gonna invite me?” 

He thought about it, about leading Prompto up to his bare apartment, his coffee table books, his cactus. About humiliating himself trying to make love drunk. He shook his head.

Prompto took his hand and lifted it to his lips, soft against his wrist. “See you on set, then?”

Ignis fled up into his apartment building, leaning back against the wall of the empty elevator as it took him up, pulse throbbing in his wrist and palm where Prompto’s mouth had touched him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This is pretty much how it’s gonna be. If you don’t think that dramatic irony and vampire puns spell a good time, then I recommend you get out now and read something else. It’s okay.
> 
> I've been sitting on this chapter for a while now because I had this ambition of writing it all before posting, but, well, that's life. It's all outlined pretty thoroughly, at least.
> 
> As is usual, critical comments are welcomed. But maybe be gentle with Ignis–apart from his brief adventure of being horny on main, he’s a pretty down-to-earth guy who hasn’t ever had any reason to question certain assumptions about the world he lives in.


	2. Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filming begins and things just get more awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's an update! ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Thanks to my write-in group for getting me focused (and thanks to the writer's block I got on my original project!).

Ignis woke with the smell of stale roses on his breath, sunlight streaming through his window. He blinked against it, groping for his phone, the fear of oversleeping clutching at him for a moment.

As he squinted at the screen, he remembered this was all going according to plan--the filming wouldn’t start until evening, and Noctis had firmly instructed him to not call before noon. 

It was Noctis’s one chance to be on a movie that had a schedule he liked, he had said, and Ignis was not to ruin that by inflicting any of his own early bird habits on him when it didn’t matter. 

Ignis had refrained from making any jabs about how a naturally sleep-deprived look might make life easier on the makeup department for this particular film, and agreed to let Noctis have his mornings.

It was fine for Noctis to be pleased with the schedule, but Ignis was uneasy about it. He told himself that was all he was uneasy about as he flipped, half-seeing, through the emails and messages his phone had accumulated during the night. 

The feeling certainly didn’t stem from the lack of contact with a certain blond young man. He would see Prompto tonight in a professional setting, and he didn’t plan on crossing any boundaries where anyone else could see. Perhaps, once this project was complete, he would have the time for a fling… 

He started making coffee by rote, not putting down his phone until he had a hot cup of java and settled down to savor it. He was so used to waking before the sunrise that it was almost uncanny to look out the window and see cars and pedestrians below, squeezing through the single-lane sidestreet between his apartment building and another. 

He found himself looking for a sleek white coupe among the cars, and rolled his own eyes. He’d have to find something to distract him through the daytime until he was on set and could focus on his job. 

Distractions came in the form of emails to press, monitoring news articles related to the new film, searches for more opportunities for the next filming season, and his third cup of coffee was growing cold when his phone began to buzz with messages. 

_> Noctis, 13:22: When are we supposed to be on set?_

_> Noctis, 13:23: I’m bored :(_

_> Noctis, 13:23: And hungry_

Ignis sent off a quick reply, _Go back to sleep_ , and received an angry emoticon in response, so he packed up his briefcase and left to pick Noctis up. He lived outside of the city, in a nice, empty house behind an iron gate. Traffic was bad enough that the round trip, plus an afternoon breakfast for the two of them, would put them at the studio not long before the cast and crew was meant to arrive that first day.

By the time he climbed into Ignis’s car, it was clear that Noctis had developed a full case of pre-filming nerves. He didn’t say anything, but he bounced his leg the entire way to the cafe. When they arrived, he denied wanting anything to eat, so Ignis sent him to a table and ordered on his behalf before joining him.

“Too many calories,” he commented when Ignis set an extra-large latte down in front of him. 

“That’s why you’re eating a salad,” Ignis told him, and he grimaced, but took the top off the drink and blew on it. 

Noctis fidgeted and watched Ignis as they waited for their food, radiating ‘ _ask me what I’m worried about’_ energy. Ignis wouldn’t take the bait--whatever it was was simply an excuse to explain the nerves he got before any event, or scene, or any tiny change in his routine, anyway. 

Finally, Noctis blurted out, “Is Luna gonna be there tonight?”

“I imagine all the main cast will be there, for the meeting,” Ignis said, eyeing the kitchen doors for signs of their food. 

Noctis started scratching at the underside of his chin with a thumbnail, the rasp of it somehow working its way into Ignis’s ears through the background music and conversation.

“Don’t scratch your face,” Ignis chided him. “Drink your coffee, it’ll help you focus.”

“Nothing to focus on,” Noctis said, but took a careful sip from the steaming cup.

“You could be spending this time reviewing your lines.” 

“I got the gist of it. And it’s no use ‘til I find out what we’re filming first, anyway.”

“What are you worried Lady Lunafreya will do, if I may ask?”

Noctis rolled his eyes at Ignis’s use of Luna’s popular nickname. “Just that it’ll be, you know, weird.” 

“I’m sure she’s forgiven you.” 

“Yeah.” Noctis set his elbows on the table and stared down into his cup. 

“Or are you more worried about her brother?”

“What?” Noctis’s head snapped up. 

“You remember Ravus Nox Fleuret, don’t you? Tall, platinum hair--”

“I know Ravus, Ignis. He’s not gonna be there, is he?” 

“He’ll be a part of the crew,” Ignis informed him with some schadenfreude. 

Noctis groaned, dropping his face into his hands, as a waitress swooped over to them and unloaded their food from a tray. Eventually, he picked up his fork and began stabbing at his salad, eating with a fierce expression. 

“Ravus can’t throw me off,” he said through a mouthful of greens. 

“He’d love to see you off your game,” Ignis said, nodding. 

“He won’t,” Noctis declared. 

By the time they finished eating and began the creeping drive to the lot, Noctis was fully caffeinated and fired up. He’d dug a copy of the script out of Ignis’s briefcase and was hunched over it, making notes in the margins. 

They rolled into the studio campus past a line of cars leaving for the day, just as the sun was dipping down to an early Autumn night. At their assigned lot, much of the cast and crew had already gathered; Ignis spotted some familiar faces among the wardrobe racks and camera rigs. 

Including Ravus Nox Fleuret, looking like he had been cast as the vampire with a long, black outfit, his silver hair half up, stalking around the set with a clipboard in his hand, giving orders. 

“Gonna say hi to Iris,” Noctis said, detaching himself from Ignis’s side and all but fleeing to the wardrobe department. 

Ravus watched him go as he approached Ignis. Oddly enough, the look on his face seemed almost amused, unlike the evil eye he tended to cast on Noctis. 

“Good evening, Ravus,” Ignis said. 

Ravus’s voice was as close to polite as a painting was to a smoking pipe. “Yes, hello. You should be leaving now, Scientia.” 

“I’ll be staying to provide personal assistance to Mr. Caelum.” As Ravus well knew he would be doing.

“Right. Then you’ll both be gone soon. My money doesn’t have him last a week with Izunia.” 

“I’ll take that bet,” Ignis said.

Ravus all but rolled his eyes. “Just stay out of the way,” he said, and went off to sneer at someone else.

It wasn’t until the sky had blackened above them that Ardyn rolled in, all smiles and waves. In the imposing flood lights that were standing in for the sun, his hat cast a sharp shadow across his face that made him seem unusually sinister from where Ignis stood. 

Behind him, Prompto followed, his hands in his pockets, craning his neck to look up at the lights. 

Ardyn called everyone to a meeting and, surprisingly cogent, laid out the plan for filming. They would be filming the second half of the script first at the studio, then the cast and directing team would travel to a location in Niflheim for the first half. 

“Tonight we’ll simply be getting to know each other,” Ardyn told the group. “Filming will begin in earnest tomorrow. I’m sure it can be difficult to inhabit a role when we’re picking up in the middle, so actors, please let me know if you have character questions. I am all ears.” 

None of that sounded like the harsh, micromanaging taskmaster Ignis had heard Ardyn described as. Ravus was frowning slightly from his place at the director’s side. 

Once the meeting broke, Ignis sought out Noctis, finding him chatting with Prompto at one of the long tables to the side. 

Prompto hopped to his feet when he noticed Ignis coming. He was grinning, those long teeth still giving his mouth an eerie look. 

Ignis greeted the two of them, hands behind his back, trying not to fidget with his clothes under the eyes of this relative stranger. 

“You left these in my car,” Prompto said, by way of response. From the pockets of his tight pants, he somehow produced a pair of silver driving gloves, tossing them to Ignis, who fumbled to catch them. 

Noctis’s eyebrows shot up, and Ignis pointedly looked away from him.

“Thank you,” Ignis said, pulling the gloves on, part of his mind-- the part that had not been intimate with another person in far too long-- fixating on the thought that they had been balled up in that tight pocket until just a moment ago. “And thank you for the ride yesterday.” 

“My pleasure,” Prompto said, not helping. 

#####

As the days--and nights--dragged on, the film crew settled into a smoother routine than anyone might have expected. The script was rather simple, after all, and many of the scenes they were filming on the lot were not terribly involved.

Ignis watched as costumes and makeup transformed the actors into their roles, Noctis taking on the grisly visage of a young man murdered in the prime of his life, back to enact wrath on the monster that had done it to him. 

Noctis’s practice as moody, but ultimately good-hearted, romantic leads served him well as a haunt. He looked positively gruesome in his makeup, tattered black robes, a bloody wound on his neck, and the look of absent resentment he wore so well tied it all together. 

Lunafreya, acting opposite him in many scenes as his conduit, acquitted herself nicely as well, with all the gravitas and fire her nickname of “Lady” implied. 

Prompto, as he always did, surprised Ignis. He had thought before that Prompto was far from his first instinct to portray a solitary, aristocratic creature of the night. But in costume, his hair was slicked back; makeup drew his eyes sharper, brows longer, cheekbones higher; fine clothing granted him height and breadth and a gleaming gravitas. Even Ignis had to admit there may have been some wisdom to the casting.

Then Prompto would catch his eye and wave from across the set, boyish cheer shining through his cold and noble visage. 

A week or so into filming, Ignis and Noctis arrived to find some rearrangement of the filming apparatus. A smaller, closed studio was the focus of the crew this day, and many of the crew members were loitering on the break benches. 

“Closed set today,” Gladiolus, a bulky security officer and an old friend, informed them when they approached. He was lounging next to the door like a bouncer.

“Oh, right,” Noctis said. “You can come watch, though, Iggy.” 

One of those scenes. This was all perfectly normal for a movie of this kind. 

“Try not to get a nosebleed,” Gladiolus taunted as they passed through the door. 

The room was set up as a bedroom set, although the lighting and the furnishing was all a bit strange, messy and vague. The scene would be an erotic dream sequence between the two male leads, Ignis had seen in the notes. 

Ardyn and Ravus were already there, adjusting cameras and microphones. Ardyn greeted them, ebullient as ever. He pulled out a copy of the script and began coaching Noctis, leading him away from Ignis to the bed. 

“He needs to go to makeup,” Ravus commented, crossing his arms beside Ignis. 

“Are we in a hurry?” Ignis asked him. 

“I certainly don’t want this going on any longer than it has to,” Ravus retorted, and returned to fussing with the cameras. 

There was no ceiling to the set, just rafters with lights, which were switched on as the night fell. 

“Where’s Prompto?” Noctis complained from where he’d splayed himself across the prop bed, sinking into its red velvet drapings. He’d long since had his makeup applied, although he wasn’t sporting the ghoul cosmetics this time. 

“Our vampire will be here when he is ready,” Ardyn informed him, seemingly content to watch the monitors and wait. 

When the star did arrive, he breezed in through the door, Gladiolus following him in to monitor the filming. Prompto was wearing a red tank and the skin-tight pants he favored. Apart from his clothing, he seemed ready to film. It was difficult to tell, sometimes, whether he was wearing makeup or not; Ignis had never seen his features anything less than clear and dramatic. 

They weren’t using doubles for these scenes, going against the standard again. Ardyn stated it was another element of naturalism. Ignis was sure he wasn’t the only one wondering if it had its roots in simple perversion. 

The actors weren’t bothered, at least. They stripped down to nothing but modesty pouches and, in Noctis’s case, a silky black robe. 

Ignis strode over to the door, back to the action, before he could catch a glimpse of Prompto’s bare body. He was here to look out for Noctis, not ogle anyone. 

Gladiolus was there, arms crossed, watching with no apparent interest. He whistled quietly, though, when Ignis reached him. “They look like skinny little shits, but they got muscle, don’t they?”

“Actors do have an onus to keep their bodies in shape,” Ignis replied. He tried to linger by the door, blocked by the cameras and other equipment, but found himself called over to facilitate some communications between the director and actors. 

Noctis and Prompto were tangled up in the sheets, sticky with the rosewater and glycerin mixture they’d been sprayed with to simulate sex. Noctis was giggling hysterically, face red, and Prompto was smirking.

Prompto was hairless under his clothes, chest and abdomen slender but defined. His tight clothing had seemed to leave nothing to the imagination, but as Ignis’s eyes wandered over his body, he found his imagination sticking on things like the pinkness of his nipple, the hollow dip between pelvis and stomach…

His eyes snapped back up, and he suddenly found himself the target of Prompto’s smug look, rather than Noctis. He cleared his throat and refocused his attention what Ardyn was calling from across the studio, instructions for rearranging cameras and bodies. 

Ignis bent to his task, draping sheets and interpreting orders, the sweet smell of roses beckoning other memories. 

“Where’s my leg supposed to be?” Prompto asked for the third time, his eyes big and innocent but his voice filthy. Noctis started laughing again. “Can you just show me?”

Ignis cut a look at him that would have withered a lesser man, but Prompto simply tilted his head. Sighing through his nose, Ignis reached out and moved Prompto’s ankle with his gloved hand. _Even his legs are shaved_ , he noted. 

“Thanks, Iggy,” Prompto said sweetly. 

Afterward, Prompto absconded without a word, but Ignis waited up with Noctis as he removed makeup and toweled off artificial sweat.

“How'd you like the show?” Noctis nudged him, eyes still bright as he wiped up off the last bits of foundation from around his eyes.

“You certainly seemed to be having a good time.” Ignis was reviewing his calendar for the days ahead.

“Don't be jealous. You get him the rest of the time.”

“I beg your pardon?” He asked, not looking up, but not reading his appointments anymore, either

“Come on, you don't have to sneak around.” Noctis gurgled through the water he was splashing onto his face.

“There's nothing going on.”

“Why not? You’re always flirting.” 

Before Ignis had to evade, Iris interrupted them to gather up the robe Noctis had been wearing, spiriting it away to a cleaner. 

Later, in the car, Noctis yawned and said, “If you're not having him, maybe I'll make a move. He's a good kisser.”

“If that's what you want, I won't get in your way.”

“Specs,” Noctis groaned. “I'm kidding. Don’t date anybody, then. I’ll buy you ice cream to cry into if this movie ends and you miss your shot with him.” 


	3. Running Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Road trip time!!

Ignis drummed his fingers against the phone at his ear as he listened to papers shuffling, keys clacking on the other end.

“I’m not Izunia’s P.A.,” Ravus muttered through the phone. “I don’t have access to these documents.” 

“Are you not the one arranging the travel plans?” Ignis asked him. 

“No. He’s got some agency over there handling it. Look, obviously you’re going to be on the flight, Scientia. Stop calling me.” 

“Stop picking up,” Ignis recommended, just before the call was disconnected. He frowned and brought his phone around to check his messages again. When there was nothing of relevance, he set it back down carefully. Outside the car, rain was pouring down gray with what little late afternoon light it wasn’t blocking, the death throes of Autumn before it gave way to another dry Winter. It pounded on the roof of the car and washed in sheets down the windshield. He was waiting for Noctis so that they could head to the studio for what should be their final day of filming in the city.

It was far too close to the day of departure for this trip to film in Niflheim for him to start worrying about his plane ticket and documentation; unfortunately, with the continued topsy-turvy schedule of filming at night, jumping between scenes and sets, Ignis had somehow let this crucial stage of planning get away from him. In a more conventional situation, it would all be taken care of by an administrative situation. 

Despite Ravus’s impatient reassurances, Ignis could not find it in himself to trust Ardyn or anyone who worked for him to arrange for him. Despite the director’s cordiality, Ignis had begun to sense a growing resentment of his own presence on set, in the way Ardyn always acted so surprised to see him there, always turned his back to Ignis when speaking to Noctis. 

Banging on the side of the car made Ignis leap in his seat, hands going to the wheel and gear shift. He realized before he could speed away, however, that it was simply Noctis, finally having emerged from his house.

Ignis let out an unsteady breath and unlocked the doors. 

Noctis opened the door and flopped down into his seat with a cold rush of humid air and a cannonball’s worth of raindrops. He shoved an umbrella under his legs and wrestled the door closed against the wind. 

“God,” Noctis groaned. “Is this gonna be gone by the time we’re supposed to fly out?” 

Ignis didn’t do more than grunt in response as he turned the car around to get back on the main road. 

“What’s up your ass?” Noctis asked. 

“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to be on that flight,” Ignis admitted. “Izunia’s been avoiding me when I try to make arrangements with him, and Ravus knows nothing, as usual.” 

“Huh.” Noctis squelched around in his seat as he got around to putting his seatbelt on. “It’s, like, a private jet, right? So I guess you can’t just get a ticket on it.” 

“Precisely. I might have to just… meet you there.” If he could even get a straight answer on the location.

Noctis shrugged audibly, his wet jacket screeching against the seat. “It’ll work out. It’s not like he can just cut you out. Plus, maybe I could be OK on my own for a while.” 

Ignis raised an eyebrow, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to cut a look at Noctis. 

“I said maybe.” 

#####

After filming concluded and Ardyn dismissed the part of the crew that would not be accompanying them abroad, Ignis shouldered past the gathered people to try to have a word with the director.

He was arrested, however, by a hand slipping into his. He spun around, snatching his hand back, only to find himself facing Prompto. 

Prompto hadn’t been involved in any of the scenes today, and Ignis hadn’t even been aware of his presence on set. His typical smile was lopsided, half apologetic this time, and he was rubbing his hand were Ignis’s glove must have scratched him as he pulled away.

“Hey, stranger.” 

“You startled me,” Ignis said. 

“I heard from Ardyn that they forgot to leave space for you on the plane,” Prompto said as a response.

Of course, Ignis thought, momentarily choked with frustration with Ardyn.

“So,” Prompto continued, “I thought I’d see if you wanted to just go up with me.”

“Pardon?” Ignis said. “Do you have a different flight?” 

Prompto laughed. “No way, dude. I can’t handle plane trips like that. I’m taking a car tonight up to catch a train on the other side of the border.”

“That must be a ten hour drive.” 

“Yeah, it’s gonna suck alone. You drive, right?” 

“I do,” Ignis said. “I’m— I’m sorry, I have to think about this. I have to talk to Noct.” 

Prompto shrugged, no longer smiling. “Sure. Think about it.”

He began to leave, and Ignis called after him, “Wait! How do I let you know? I don’t have your number.”

“I’ll be at your place at one,” Prompto told him with a smirk that showed his teeth.

So Ignis returned to tracking Ardyn down. He found him talking to Noctis near the gates to the parking lot, laughing at something Noctis said. 

“Dear Ignis,” Ardyn said when he noticed him. “I was so sorry to hear about the plane mishap. But our manifest is already filled up, you understand, with essential personnel and equipment.”

“I understand,” Ignis said. He caught the eye of Noctis, who was uncharacteristically stoic. 

“But I assure you, we’ll have your little star back here safe and sound in a week or so,” Ardyn was continuing. “There was no need for you to join us there in the first place.”

Ignis interjected, “I will be joining you. Mr. Argentum has asked me to accompany him on his alternate route. Tonight.”

“Ah.” Ardyn said, seeming almost caught off guard by this. “Well. That is just delightful. I’m glad to see he’s getting along well with some people here. Such a reclusive young man when I found him. I’m sure he’ll just eat up your company on the trip.” 

“Yes. Well, Noctis, what do you think? Perhaps you’d like to join us on the road trip?” 

“Actually—” Ardyn began, but Noctis cut him off.

“—Actually, Ardyn and I are gonna go over some scenes while we’re in the air. I think it’ll be a big help figuring out my role.” Noctis’s tone was casual, but his eyes were trying to tell Ignis something.

“That’s right,” Ardyn agreed with a wide smile. “We’ll have some valuable one-on-one time.” 

“I hope it will be enlightening,” Ignis said, nodding to Noctis to say I trust you. “Do you need a ride home, Noctis?”

“Er, no,” Noctis said, suddenly looking like a kid who had to sit for an exam, rather than a man with a plan. “I’m gonna catch up with Luna tonight. You’ve gotta pack, right? I’ll get home on my own. Thanks.” 

Ignis left them with the promise to see them in Niflheim, the uneasy feeling that hadn’t left him since the beginning of this project sitting heavy in his belly. 

It was already past midnight when he arrived at his apartment. The torrent had slackened to a drizzle by now, but he could still hear cars tearing through the saturated streets when he let himself inside and began packing, worried that each one could be his best chance to get to the filming location passing him by. 

He finished packing his suitcase tight just as his watch rolled over to 1:00 AM. He patted his documentation one more time in his pocket and shut off the lights, racing down the stairs to break out onto street level.

Prompto was there, waiting for him in the light rain, leaning against a new car, an SUV.

“You’re already all packed up? I wanted to see your place.”

“Ah, well…” Ignis was still somewhat out of breath from his rush. “That is… You’re welcome to come up, if you like.”

“Some other time,” Prompto said, with a sardonic look on his youthful face that made Ignis think he’d been kidding. He stepped off the car and opened the back for Ignis, who slotted his suitcase into what little space there was back there. The body of the car was filled with miscellaneous equipment and props, more detritus that wouldn’t fit on the plane. Like Ignis.

There was a moment, after his suitcase was shoved into the car and Prompto was behind the wheel, that Ignis had his hand on the handle of the passenger’s side door and had the strange sudden memory of being a child, instructed by his uncle to flee from any adult who suggested Ignis get in a car with them. 

He shook it off and climbed up into the seat, buckling in for the long ride ahead. 

“Are you gonna sleep?” Prompto asked him.

“Unlikely.” Ignis didn’t do well with other people driving. And the nighttime filming schedule had thrown his already somewhat precarious sleep schedule into chaos. “But as long as we can come by some coffee, I’ll be fine when you need to switch over.”

The wet road hissed under their tires as they made their way out of the city, heading north. Streetlights flashed down onto them, growing sparser, tall buildings giving way first to long, flat strip malls and eventually to open countryside, seemingly empty in the darkness. 

The radio was playing low, some station run by the university in town, with amateur DJs and an eclectic selection of post-punk industrial music. It was interesting music, but in his current situation, the dissonant, mechanical sounds were beginning to grate on Ignis. He switched it off, and Prompto glanced at him, eyebrow raised.

Ignis fumbled for a topic to explain silencing the radio. “You, ah, don’t like airplanes?” 

Prompto hummed, his fingers tapping and leg bouncing making up for the lack of noise from the radio. “Not really my thing. Plus, Ardyn’s plane’s gonna be crossing the water. That really wigs me out.”

“Oh.” While Ardyn and Noctis would be flying directly Northeast over the bay, their land route would take them North by car, then East by train. “You’re afraid of deep water?”

“Yeah,” Prompto agreed. “I guess you wish you were on that plane, huh?” 

“I just don’t like leaving Noctis alone in a situation like that,” Ignis said, the night making him candid. “I can’t help but feel that Izunia is trying to get me out of the way.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s true. I’ve got instructions to dump your body in a drainage ditch, you know.”

Ignis grimaced. “That’s not something to joke about.”

“Sorry.”

“If there were real vampires, I think that man would be one,” Ignis said. He glanced at Prompto, who had his brow furrowed. “No offense.”

Prompto startled at that. “Oh,” he laughed, “Whatever. Let’s stop in a bit and change over. We need some gas, too.”

“Alright,” Ignis agreed, although they hadn’t been driving for long. 

It was a while until they found an outpost with a store and a gas station.

“I’ll go in and pay,” Prompto said, leaning in over the seat after hopping out. “And I gotta take a personal call from nature.”

Ignis went to the back of the car to rummage through his things for a sweater and tying it around his shoulders. The temperature had dropped considerably. Winter, it seemed, had come down harder on the northern outskirts of Insomnia than it had on his corner of town. 

He heard a click from the pump, the attendant having activated it from inside, so he filled up the car’s tank and then went into the store.

The door’s bell rang out into a quiet broken up by a sports event on a small television by the counter. No one seemed to be attending to the store, however: Ignis wandered in between the short aisles, but found himself alone. He found a case of Ebony coffee in the back, and grabbed several cans, along with a bag of chips, to take to the counter. 

“Excuse me,” he called out, peering around the security window to see if there might be a back room that might be hiding a clerk.

He took another pass around the small store, and when he finally resorted to opening the door to look outside, Prompto was there catching the door. 

“Hey, there you are,” Prompto said. “Thought something might have snatched you. Ready to go?”

“I’m trying to buy a drink,” Ignis said. “Have you seen the clerk? They shouldn’t just leave the store empty like this.”

“Oh, yeah, I think they’re cleaning the bathroom. Just leave money on the counter or something.” 

“I should go find them,” Ignis said, trying to step out.

“I’ll let ‘em know,” Prompto said, stopping him. “C’mon, we gotta keep going or we won’t make the train.” When Ignis hesitated, Prompto pulled out his wallet and took out far too much money for the snacks. “Look, we’ll leave this and go, OK?” 

“Fine,” Ignis said, and went back to retrieve the items, watching Prompto drop the bill on the counter like a scrap of trash. 

“You like that canned stuff?” Prompto said, raising an eyebrow at Ignis’s armful.

“I appreciate a certain level of consistency,” Ignis responded. 

Prompto smirked, perhaps at the archness of this statement, and grabbed a candy bar from a display on the counter before they left. 

Back on the road, Prompto watched Ignis open his first can of Ebony and arrange the seat and mirrors before they left the station. 

“Can I try it?” Prompto asked, pointing at the drink.

“Help yourself.”

Prompto took a sip and immediately began to cough, covering his mouth. “This is foul,” he said, dropping it back into the cup holder. 

Ignis took it and took his own sip. “But it’s equally foul every time,” he said. 

Rolling his eyes, Prompto ripped open his candy bar and kicked back his seat, propping his foot up on the dashboard.

The night grew longer as they traveled further North, and the landscape changed, illuminated briefly by streetlights and gas stations and, for an hour or so, the waxing moon cresting over mountains that had begun to crowd in under the cover of darkness. The moon was obscured again by clouds, but the land’s foreign features continued to reveal themselves in sloping, winding roads and distant radio towers blinking like miniature light houses. Wind buffeted the car whenever they moved out of the lee of the unseen mountains towering over them, but the weather remained dry despite the clouds.

Prompto didn’t exactly engage Ignis in conversation. He appeared to be dozing, but would make unexpected comments, ranging from giving directions, seemingly off the top of his head, to asking Ignis if he had religion.

“My parents taught me to respect the Astrals,” Ignis answered, “But once I moved to the city to live with my uncle, I never found the time for such rituals. I enjoyed them, though.”

“That’s too bad,” Prompto said. 

Ignis glanced down at him, laid out on the seat, hands stretched above his head, eyes closed. He seemed unbothered by the cold, wearing only a sleeveless shirt that had come untucked, the band of his underwear and a strip of smooth skin revealed above his belt. “And you?” Ignis asked, returning his gaze to the barren road. 

“No.” Prompto answered. “Let’s switch again.” 

They were deep into a kind of no-man’s land, approaching the border with Niflheim, and there was no rest stop or gas station to speak of, so Ignis simply pulled onto the gravely shoulder of the road and flipped on the safety blinkers.

He opened the door and shivered violently as a gust of cold air rushed into the car. As he dropped down onto the road and crossing behind the car, he wrestled on the sweater he’d pulled out earlier, holding his glasses in his hand to pull it over his face. 

“Nice turtleneck,” Prompto teased him when they met at the back of the car. 

“It’s freezing,” Ignis chattered, squinting at his blurry shape, lit only by the intermittent red lights of the car’s blinkers. “Aren’t you cold?” 

“I’m used to worse,” Prompto said, shrugging and then reaching toward Ignis to pluck at the neck of his sweater. “Get back in, you’re gonna knock your teeth out shivering like that.” 

They hurried to their swapped positions, and Ignis straightened back the passenger’s seat as Prompto turned up the car’s heat. 

“You don’t have to,” Ignis said even as he warmed his gloved hands against the nearest vent. 

“There’s still a couple more hours to go,” Prompto said. “I don’t want you to freeze to death before we get to the train. How would I explain that to Ardyn?”

“I think you’d just have to say ‘You’re welcome.’” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a little more planned for this chapter but unsurprisingly got into these scenes and I decided I wanted to keep the chapter length consistent more than hit my planned conclusion for this bit. We'll just have to wait for next chapter for the train scene..............


	4. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis and Prompto take a train ride.

The train station was cold and empty, the wind racing down the tracks to cut through Ignis’s pitiful sweater. He stood next to the platform, having gotten out to stretch his legs as soon as they parked. There was one other car, a rusted, heavy thing abandoned at the back of the lot. 

“Will there be an attendant?” Ignis asked, waiting for Prompto to follow him out of the parked car.

“It’s morning,” Prompto said to him. “Can’t you tell?” He gestured at the coal-black sky.

A light was burning behind the ticket window, the one enclosed room on the otherwise open platform. Prompto wrapped his knuckles against the glass, peering inside. After several moments, a pale and hollow-eyed woman appeared from within the room to lower herself into the chair there.

“I’ve got tickets already,” Prompto told her, producing three pieces of paper and sliding them through the recess at the base of the window. 

“Car space, too?” The woman said, looking at the papers before tearing them. “OK. Train’s not due for a bit. Best pull your car into the loading area and wait inside. Snow’s coming.” 

“How long will the train be?” Ignis stepped up behind Prompto to ask. 

“It’ll be here when it’s here,” The attendant said, giving him a long-suffering look. 

“C’mon,” Prompto said, touching his elbow. 

“I’m going to walk around a bit,” Ignis said, rubbing his gloved hands together. He was sick of sitting in the car. 

Prompto eyed him with some amusement. “If you say so.” 

They returned to the car, where Ignis dug out another coat for himself and an extra sweatshirt for Prompto, who tried to wave him off but eventually relented, pulling it over his head.

He lifted the neck of the baggy shirt up to his nose. “Smells good.” 

Ignis swallowed hard and looked off down the train tracks; in the distance, light posts illuminated small patches, trailing off into a haze, sign of the coming storm.

Even with the added layer, Ignis could only bear the cold for so long. He’d never lived in a climate this cold, and despite all foresight he had a feeling he hadn’t packed adequately. It was already seeping painfully through the toes of his leather shoes and biting into his uncovered ears. 

“I’m cold,” Prompto said eventually, rubbing at his arms half-heartedly. “We can pace on the train, right? Let’s go to the car.” 

They did, heat blasting from the A/C. 

“You could sleep,” Prompto suggested, but Ignis shook his head. He’d started worrying about Noctis again.

The train came suddenly, throwing bright light over the tracks in front of it, bursting from the foggy darkness. It sounded its horn as it approached the station, slowing with a screech that made Prompto cover his ears. 

Prompto handled discussion with the train personnel to load their car in, speaking in a dialect Ignis could barely comprehend. Ignis waited in his seat, watching through the windshield as they extended a ramp for the car. It felt strange and unsettling to not be in charge, to not only have no idea what to say or do, but also to not be expected to say or do anything.

When the car was parked on the bed of a train car, they got out and helped the jumpsuited men who worked on the train to tighten straps around its wheels, holding it fast to the larger vehicle. 

Back on the platform, they flashed their ticket stubs at the conductor and finally boarded, walking down the length of the train to find the compartment Prompto had rented. They passed a few other passengers in the open-seating areas of the train: a young woman, eyes open but bloodshot, backpack clutched to her chest; a group of rough-looking adults who seemed to be soldiers or mercenaries; a man walking opposite to them, bouncing a sleeping infant in his arms. 

They arrived at the box listed on the tickets, and Prompto slid the door open, tossing a weekend bag that seemed mostly empty onto a seat and then stepping back for Ignis to enter. There was a padded bench, a luggage rack, and a table with a frayed magazine on it. 

“The bed folds down here,” Prompto said, tugging at a handle above the bench. A platform clattered down, revealing a thin mattress. He pointed at the overhead rack. “And there’s sheets and stuff up there.” 

They pulled down the sheets and pillows and shook them out. They smelled dusty, but looked clean.

Before Ignis could ask anything about a second bed or a separate compartment, Prompto asked him, “You haven’t been on a sleeper train before, right? Are you gonna be OK in here?” 

“Are you… going somewhere?” 

“I gotta go check on the car,” Prompto explained. 

“But we just left the car.”

Prompto reached out and touched his shoulder. “You look worried. It’s fine.” 

“I’m not worried,” Ignis said, sitting down on the thin, bare mattress. “I just…” He looked at the covered window, paper blinds clacking against the glass as the train lurched and began to pick up speed. 

“Go to sleep, Ignis. I’ll be back in a couple hours, ‘kay?” 

Something about the moving train made Ignis feel like time was slipping away. He remembered Noctis’s urging in the car, what seemed like months ago but was only a few days. “You could stay,” he said to Prompto, meeting his cool blue eyes. When Prompto didn’t immediately respond, but simply looked down on him, Ignis asked, “Why did you even ask me along?”

“You needed a ride. And I like you. Didn’t I tell you that, when we went out drinking?”

“I don’t—don’t understand,” Ignis admitted. He’d been up all night, and in the strange, cramped train car he felt like foolish and awkward and dirty for convincing himself that Prompto had been making advances on him. 

His thoughts crashed to a halt when Prompto raised a hand and touched the rim of Ignis’s glasses, running his finger along the top of one lens, making the feet dig into the bridge of his nose. “I used to wear glasses,” Prompto murmured, before his hand dropped down to cradle Ignis’s jaw. “I’ll come back. Go to sleep, and I’ll be back. Soon.” 

Ignis was holding his breath, but it left him in a rush when Prompto ducked in and pressed their mouths together, his lips still chilled from the cold outside. And then in the next instant Prompto was gone, the door rattling shut behind him.

Was he really going to come back? Ignis’s mouth tingled. Outside, the train passed out of the lighted track near the station and into the gray twilight of the open Niflheim countryside.

######

The train reached its destination at a station outside of Ueltham, according to Prompto as he jostled Ignis awake in the evening, sitting on the edge of the train cot.

“It’s like seven,” Prompto said. 

Ignis sat up, the rough, thin blanket slipping off of him. He realized he was naked, and clutched the blanket to his waist, one hand on his head. He felt as though he hadn’t slept at all. No light came from outside; whatever hour or so of hazy sunlight there was had long since passed while Ignis had slept… But he hadn’t simply slept, had he?

“C’mon,” Prompto said, slapping his thigh before standing up. He was fully clothed, but Ignis remembered the hours before, waking up to feel their bare bodies already pressed together, Prompto’s hands all over him, pulling and squeezing and scratching. He remembered covering Prompto’s hands with his own, pressing down to encourage him, arching up into the burn. He could still see the marks on his own chest. Still hear the echoes of his own moans.

He looked up to catch Prompto watching him, and smirking.

“You liked my nails. You’re kind of a masochist, huh?”

Ignis stood, gathering up his discarded clothing. “I’m— I have to— Is there a bathroom?” 

“Yeah,” Prompto said, stepping back to let him pass to the door, brows together. “Down at the end of the car.” 

Ignis pulled on his clothing haphazardly and left to find it. The bathroom was cramped, a toilet and a small, shallow sink. He ran water and washed his face, taking a deep breath before looking at himself in the mirror. He’d left his glasses behind.

“Stupid,” he hissed, tearing paper towels and wetting them, loosening his clothing and reaching underneath to try to wipe himself off. “Careless.” 

He pulled his shirt open, looking at his neck for hickeys, but found the damage contained to a few red lines on his chest and back. He remembered grabbing Prompto’s hips and pulling their bodies together. It had been like a wet dream, every touch as satisfying as a drink of water after a long day of labor, every moment kept teetering on the edge of climax a delicious torture.

Shoving the used towels into a trash bin, he took a few more breaths. It was fine. If Prompto’s attitude toward him changed, as long as they made it to the filming location and Ignis was able to meet up with Noctis again, he would be fine. It would be better, even, if he didn’t have Prompto flirting with him anymore.

Even if Prompto became hostile, spread gossip about him, he’d been through worse. He straightened his clothing and returned to their train car. 

Prompto was standing where he’d left him, watching Ignis warily. 

“This is our stop, isn’t it?” Ignis asked him, locating his glasses and putting them on. 

“Uh, yeah. Gonna be a sec til we can get the car out, though.”

Ignis felt Prompto watching him as he put away the bed and looked over the room for anything left behind.

“Is something a-matter?” Prompto asked him while he tidied, looking grave despite his casual tone.

“No,” Ignis answered quickly.

“Are you hurt?” 

“No,” he said again, looking at Prompto as though for the first time, the thickness of his eyelashes as he blinked, the curve of his lips. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“Do you feel bad now?” Prompto said, eyes dropping fix on Ignis’s chest. “I thought you wanted me.”

“I did,” Ignis said. “I do!”

“You do?” 

Now they were eye-to-eye again, and Ignis took Prompto’s hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just… rather poor at this morning-after business.” 

“It’s not really the morning.” Prompto said, smiling at him.

Ignis scoffed, allowing a smile back. “Yes, well, even so. I hope this won’t affect our professional relationship.” 

Prompto tilted his head. “You’re really worried, huh? What’s the risk?”

“In the acting industry, a person’s reputation can make or break him. I’m hardly a celebrity, but I don’t want to be known as someone who’s… easy.”

“You’re not easy,” Prompto said, letting their hands fall apart with a reassuring squeeze. 

The lights in the train flashed, urging them to leave, and Ignis followed Prompto out onto the platform. 

“Do you know where we’re going?” Ignis asked him once their car had been unloaded into a lot and they were able to get back in. It was strange, being in the same car in which they had driven out of Insomnia, but thousands of miles away.

“Oh, yeah,” Prompto said. “This is actually my place. I always know how to get to it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t know about the castle? It’s been in my family forever.” 

Ignis looked ahead into the road. Frost was already creeping into the edges of their windshield. “I didn’t take you for an aristocrat,” he said, hoping it wouldn’t offend.

“Heh, well, fortunes change, y’know.” Prompto chuckled, but it seemed more forced than usual, this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter! As always, criticism is welcome and appreciated. This story is a lot more like the original fiction I write than any other fan fiction I've shared, and I'm sure my inexperience with this slower pace and more literary/atmospheric style shows.
> 
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	5. Stakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spooooky castle time!

“It was fine,” Noctis said, sprawled out on the bed that would be Ignis’s, picking at the dust crusted into the bedframe and watching him unpack. “It’s been fine.”

“Stop that,” Ignis said, eyes already itching. “You’ll tear up your nails.” 

Noctis didn’t say anything, but folded his arms under his chin.

“Izunia didn’t do anything strange?” Ignis opened a drawer gingerly, but found the dresser blessedly free of rot or spiders. 

Noctis snorted. “I mean, yeah, obviously he did a bunch of weird and creepy shit. But I played up the spoiled prince routine and I think it threw them off. Ardyn asked me if I always have my manager hold my hand on set.”

“That seems rather unsubtle for him.”

“He really thinks I’m stupid. Not super into sharing a wall with him, but at least they’re thick here.”

Ignis slid the drawer shut. He was probably imagining the puff of dust it emitted. “Your bedroom is right next to his?”

“Yeah, there’s this whole suite thing that he’s set up as a base for himself. I guess it used to be the ‘Lord’s Quarters’ or something. And I get the next room over.” 

“Would you prefer to sleep down here?” 

“Ehh,” Noctis said, lifting his head and eying Ignis over. “There’s other places to hide out. I don’t think I want to get in the way of… you know.”

Sometimes Ignis wished Noctis were as vain and self-obsessed as he pretended. His hand automatically went to the collar of his shirt, checking the buttons. Nothing out of place, none of the marks on his skin revealed. He sniffed and said, “I can’t imagine I know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re such a bullshitter.” 

“And you are a gossip.” 

“Who’m I gonna gossip to, Ravus? Cell service sucks ass so I can’t call Luna, or Dad, or Iris, or Gladio…” He chewed on his lip for just a moment, but stopped before Ignis could chastise him about that, too. “I was kind of worried about you, though, actually. Ardyn was acting like you weren’t gonna make it here. I thought he maybe got Prompto to leave without you.”

“Thankfully, he did not. Now please tell me there are laundry facilities here.” Ignis tugged the sheets out from under Noctis, rolled off onto the bared mattress with a sigh. “Please tell me there’s plumbing.” 

“How should I know?” Noctis was still pouting about the cell reception. 

“You have had a shower since arriving here, I hope.” 

“Okay, yes, fine, there’s plumbing, I guess.” 

A knock came at the door while Ignis’s arms were still full of musty sheets. He dumped them at the foot of the bed and opened the door.

“Hey Iggy!” Prompto said, bouncing on his heels in the hallway. 

“And that’s my cue.” Noctis dropped off the bed and left, giving Prompto a high-five as he passed. 

Prompto walked into Ignis’s room, looking around. “Cool, you found a room. This wing used to be the servant’s quarters, you know.” 

“I imagine it would take quite a crew of servants to maintain an estate like this,” Ignis said, shutting the door. 

“Oh, yeah, all sorts. This whole floor was just living space for them! And then there were the groundskeepers and stuff, they lived out in cabins.” 

Ignis picked up the pile of sheets again and moved them to the now-empty bed, sorting through them. “Hm. I suppose you must have been here for the tail end of that era, were you? It clearly made an impression on you, despite your age.”

“Oh, well. Yeah. And my, uh, Dad talked about it a lot. Kind of wouldn’t shut up about the whole thing.”

“Some people deal badly with change,” Ignis said. “Especially when it’s foisted upon them under such violent circumstances.”

“Yeah, well, he was always a miserable bastard,” Prompto said.

Ignis laughed, surprised by his blithe tone, and turned to find Prompto suddenly very close. He stopped laughing.

“Let’s not talk about that, though.” Prompto wrapped his arms around Ignis’s neck, gazing up at him without blinking.

“Alright,” Ignis agreed without thinking. 

“But I like to hear you talk. Say something else.” 

Prompto’s nose, his lips brushed against the tender skin of Ignis’s throat, making him shudder. He lifted his hands to push Prompto away, thinking to put some respectable space between them, but somehow ended up pulling him closer instead. Prompto’s thigh found its way between his legs, pressing into his groin. 

“The bed’s not made,” was all Ignis could think of to say.

“Beds,” Prompto scoffed, nosing at his neck, “Who needs ‘em?”

He sank to his knees and kept urging Ignis to talk while he took him apart, first pulling his clothing off and then pulling his cock into a slick, tight mouth.

Ignis curled fingers into his pale hair and told him he was beautiful, perfect, amazing. The worry that someone would hear was ever-present, but every footstep and clatter he heard sent a perverse pang of excitement through him.

Prompto looked up at him when that happened, a knowing look in his eyes. There was something startlingly erotic about watching him down there, strange and foreign and inscrutable, those sharp teeth framing his most vulnerable part, made Ignis moan and tilt his head back, unable to do anything but pray that this wasn’t a mistake.

######

The castle was a strange place to film a movie. Ignis and Noctis had spent some time on location for projects, but none so remote and ancient as the Besithia estate, as it turned out to be named. There was nothing so ancient and imposing in Lucis, and Ignis had never visited any of the castles in Tenebrae. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have become so familiar with the narrow hallways, the uneven steps. The drafts coming in through cracks in the stone walls. The way water rumbled and shuddered through pipes fixed to the walls because they couldn’t be installed inside solid rock.

When the wind and snow was beating at the walls and making everything rattle, or when Ardyn was shut away reviewing the footage, Ignis stayed in Noctis’s room, where they passed the time with games or conversation, or in his own, where Prompto seemed to have practically moved in.

Prompto didn’t sleep there, always slipping away while Ignis was asleep and not appearing again until much later the next day. But he followed Ignis there at the end of each workday and didn’t leave until Ignis left for dinner or fell asleep.

Ignis never thought to rebuff him. It was a comfort to have him near.

He could see what Noctis liked about the Prompto who showed himself in costume, noble and commanding, a graceful predator who kissed Noct silly on a bed of silk sheets.

In his own lumpy, musty bed, Ignis saw a different side of Prompto, one who was cautious and restrained in his touches, quick to smile and laugh in self-deprecation. Just as sensual, just as ravenous with his hands and mouth once they were in the thick of it, but it was a different kind of act. A private performance for Ignis alone. He revealed by the smallest of admissions a young man too accustomed to criticism and strife, a kind soul hardened by a cold life.

Ignis didn’t let himself imagine that this was anymore than a diversion for Prompto, but in his more fanciful moments he did let himself feel grateful that Prompto had chosen him for this particular of dalliance.

It made the long, dark days go by more pleasantly, at least. 

The creaking, rustling, hissing sounds that filled every silence gave Ignis the ever-present feeling of being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked up with each new, unidentifiable sound.

It didn’t help that he seemed to run into someone with a sullen face and searching eyes whenever he turned a corner. Whether it was Ravus, Ardyn himself, or one of the crew of local people Ardyn had hired for filming and support. None of Ignis’s attempts at schmoozing seemed to have any effect on these pale, suspicious folk; they didn’t seem to share a language with him, and when he tried to speak the few words of the Niflheim tongue he knew, they just stared and shook their heads.

The people he was used to working with had remained behind, in Lucis. Prompto and Noctis were the only ones he could have a conversation with.

They were only going to be there two weeks, and already the isolation was wearing on Ignis more than he could have anticipated. The food was the same sort of thing every day, vegetable based soups with salted meat and bread, as though they really were living off of whatever could be stored in the cellar for months at a time. Prompto never showed up for meals, so at best the large, ornately decorated dining room was host to only Ignis, Noctis, Ardyn and Ravus. If Ardyn wasn’t monologuing about some aspect of the film industry he found tiresome, they ate in silence.

Supposedly there was a town only a few miles away, but the day after he and Prompto had arrived, a snow storm had set in and buried the roads, leaving them trapped until a team from the village worked their way up with shovels.

There was a brief window of time for filming each day: between the weather and Prompto’s irregular schedule, they barely managed to wrap up one scene per day. It was a maddeningly slow pace considering the circumstances, but Ignis was thankful, at least, that Ardyn seemed to be just as eager to finish it all up as he was. 

In between filming, Ignis and Noctis spent time exploring the castle, at least for the first few days, until a couple of the Niflheimer staff saw them and slunk away, whispering. Moments later Ravus tracked Ignis and Noctis down and dragged them back through the courtyard and into the area of the castle in which they had settled.

“You’d do best not to make any more expeditions,” Ravus was saying, as they passed by a truck idling at one of the gates into the courtyard while its drivers unloaded crates covered in Niflheim writing. “It could be dangerous. This place hasn’t been inhabited in— Scientia, don’t linger outside.”

Ignis had been watching the deliveries and hurried to follow through the door Ravus was holding open for him. 

“What are they delivering?” Ignis asked.

“Supplies,” Ravus answered, before dumping them in the main hall and brusquely excusing himself.

Noctis groaned and sat down on the gravely staircase in the center of the hall. “What the hell do we do, then?”

“Rot, I suppose,” Ignis mused, distracted. He left Noctis languishing on the steps and went to his room to find the dictionary he had packed at the bottom of his bag. 

It was difficult to hold the image of the unfamiliar writing in his mind, but he had to confirm a suspicion about a particular crate he’d seen out there.

After a long enough time that his back began to ache, standing over the book at the rickety old table in his room, he felt certain: the large, blocky letters had read LIVE ANIMALS.

When he managed to corner and interrogate Ardyn about it, the man assured him there were still no scenes planned involving animals. “Probably a delivery for the kitchens,” he suggested.

But as much as he wished that to be the answer, Ignis saw no sign of fresh meat in any of the meals they had the misfortune of eating in the dark, stuffy dining hall.

######

“Hey, so, what do you think of the movie?” Prompto asked him one evening, sitting on the floor of Ignis’s room, sorting through the pieces of an old and indecipherable board game he had found in a cabinet somewhere.

Laying on the bed, Ignis set his book aside and sighed. “I know the academy has a liking for tragedies. I’m less confident the ending will test well with audiences.”

“Okay, but what do you think? Do you like this kind of story?”

Ignis frowned. “I must say, as a gay man, I’m not too pleased to be involved with a movie about a man who’s engaged to a woman but falls for a man who ends up killing him. But Noctis wanted this role very badly.”

“Huh. I didn’t know you were gay.”

Ignis sat up entirely and looked down on him, searching for words. “Then what did you… Aren’t you? Gay?”

“I guess I never really thought about it.”

“You’d do well to start. Once we start promoting this film, that’s likely to be all anyone will be asking you.”

Prompto stood and stretched. “I think I could like anyone, not just guys.” He climbed onto the bed, onto Ignis. “But I like you the most.” He leaned in and spoke into his ear, like a child telling a secret.

Ignis smiled at the flattery and laid his hands on Prompto’s hips.

“So you don’t think the vampire loves the dude back?”

It was a little harder to focus on the conversation with Prompto in his lap like this. “Oh, well… I suppose the script is ambiguous. But it’s hard for me to see it that way. It’s a particularly disturbing kind of love, if he does.”

Prompto pulled back, eyes unfocused with thought.

“What do you think? Do you like the story?”

“I dunno. I guess I gotta think about that, too.” He stepped off the bed, leaving Ignis worried that he’d made a faux pas. 

“Right now?” Ignis asked, a little plaintively.

Prompto grinned and took up Ignis’s hand, pressing a kiss to it. “Just realized I missed dinner,” he said. “I’ll BRB, ‘kay?”

“But you always miss dinner,” Ignis said to the empty room, long after Prompto vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this story so far :D We're gettin' close to..... something!!

**Author's Note:**

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